Simple men
by fire-forged
Summary: What safety would there be in quiet lands, or in the homes of simple men at night, if the Dunadain were asleep or were all gone into the grave? Yet less thanks have we than you. FOTR. A story of the rangers. Plz R&R! Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.

Chapter 1: A cold journey

The rangers trudged through the heavy snow, cloaks pulled tightly around their bodies, heads bent. They had been walking since early morning and their steps were weary. Trestan, in particular, felt the weariness more than the other two. Still young, he had joined the rangers only a short time ago, and he was less accustomed to the long walking in extreme weathers than the other two hardened rangers. This was in fact his first time traveling so far from the ranger village where he had grown up. Till now, he had only gone on short patrols to the neighboring villages, but he was now deemed old enough to take part in some of the guard duties further away from his home. That was why he was here now, traveling to the Northern camp, to be part of the ranger guard situated there. There was need of men there, word was that the orcs there had grown increasingly bold, and the guard around the villages was being doubled. More rangers were being moved up there.

As soon as he had heard this news, Trestan immediately wished to be a part of this guard. He had always wanted to see the distant lands about which he had always heard but had never seen. The possibility of danger and battle only added further thrill to this adventure that the impetuousness of his youth whole-heartedly embraced. As luck would have it, his two companions happened to be passing through his village, heading back towards the Northern camp themselves, and they had agreed to let him accompany them to join the patrol.

At the beginning, Trestan had been elated at this journey and the adventure it offered. However, thinking only of the excitement of battles and fights, Trestan had failed to take into account the long, cold and dreadfully boring journey to reach the Northern camp in the first place. Now, a fortnight away from his home, Trestan was seriously beginning to regret ever having agreed to this duty. Not only agreed, he was the one who had repeatedly and forcefully pleaded with his parents to let him go off on this journey. He suspected that in the end his parents had just gotten tired of his constant begging and had shoved him off on the two rangers just to be rid of him. 

Trestan's thoughts turned to his two companions. Dagoin, the older of the two, was a quiet, impassive, sort of man. Tall and bulky with muscle, with hardened features, he rarely spoke at all, but despite his gruff exterior, Trestan knew him to be a kind-hearted sort. He usually preferred to sit by himself on guard duty. Trestan had yet to see him laugh or smile or take any part in the usually lively conversations between him and Aragorn.

Aragorn, chieftain of the Dunadan, was their other companion. Trestan remembered his great awe at first finding out who this visitor to their village was, and his even greater nervousness when he discovered that he was to accompany him on the journey. How would such a great lord react to him? He was inexperienced and quite ignorant of anything beyond his village.

But his apprehension soon vanished in the face of the chieftain's easy-going manner and gentle kindness. Aragorn made sure to watch over him, and proved a jovial companion with whom Trestan shared many a conversation.

Aragorn was the one now leading them, and Trestan was completely dependent on his skills to get them where they were going. He himself had long since lost any inkling of where they were; they were far beyond his region of experience. For all he knew, they would be walking through this white land forever. He was not even looking at his surroundings now, his attention focused on the steady footsteps of the ranger in front of him, trusting that he had an idea of where they were going. It was easier, too, to just think of following one step at a time, rather than look ahead at all the distant miles they had yet left to cover.

Suddenly the footsteps in front of him stopped, and Trestan looked up in mild surprise. Aragorn had turned around to face them, a slight grin playing on his face.

"What would you say to stopping for the night? Say in a nice warm inn with a hot meal and proper beds?" Aragorn asked. As he had expected, Trestan's face lit up at the sound of the word 'warm', his bright eyes expressing without words his intense eagerness for the rest and warmth offered. The look of excitement on face was so comical that Aragorn had to stifle a laugh, even though he could understand exactly how he felt. After a week out in the cold, Aragorn was more than looking forward to actually having feeling in his numb fingers again. Trestan must have been feeling even worse. Even the normally impassive Dagoin's shoulders had straightened at the prospect of proper shelter for the night.

"There is a village, not far from here. We should reach it within the hour. It is a small place, but I'm sure they have a few warm beds for weary travelers." Aragorn continued, this time really laughing at Trestan's barely controlled glee. Turning around again, he started forward, and the rangers moved off, their pace quickened, weary limbs fueled by the thought of rest.

It was not long before the rangers could make out the gate of the rough wooden wall that surrounded the village. It was, as Aragorn had said, small, barely enough to be even called a village. Nevertheless, Trestan was thoroughly relieved to see it, his eagerness to reach it had only increased as the rapidly approaching evening caused the temperature to fall even further.

Reaching the gate, Aragorn knocked loudly, and was soon rewarded by the face of a surly looking gate-keeper looking out through a window in the door. Looking thoroughly annoyed at having been dragged away from his fire, he scrutinized the travelers carefully.

"Rangers they look to be, three of them too. Of course it would be them, what other sane person would be out on a night like this." He muttered to himself, unaware that the keen ears of said rangers were picking up on his every word. "Don't know what they think they are up to, going around disturbing the peace of normal folk. Thieving too, no doubt. Scoundrels the lot of them. And what do you be wanting?" He asked, addressing them at last

"Shelter and food for the night. We wish to stay at the inn." Aragorn replied shortly, not wishing to prolong his conversation with so dislikable a man.

"Of course, of course. Stay at the inn. Probably mean to rob it and everyone there. Why they come walking up here I don't know." The old gatekeeper muttered again. "There's no room for such as you here. We don't want your kind. We're respectable folks, and don't be wanting any trouble. Away with you now!" he responded to them, glaring darkly at them the whole time and making to shut the window.

" We don't wish for any trouble either. We are tired, and simply wish to rest. We will be out of your way before daybreak." Aragorn tried again, reigning in his anger at the man and attempting to sound reasonable.

"Sure you will, sure you will. Steal out of here before daybreak after robbing the whole village no doubt. I'm no fool, I know your kind, I do. You won't trick your way in here. Go back where you came from and stop disturbing us respectful folk." The gatekeeper replied, and without waiting for a response shut the window and walked back to his meager shelter, muttering about dark strangers that had the audacity to come barging into their homes.

Outside, Aragorn, stood staring at the gate in a shocked silence, suppressed anger visible in his eyes and his tightly clenched jaw. Staring at the gate for a moment more, he turned around to where the other two rangers were waiting, and said, "Let's go. There is cave nearby in these foothills where we will shelter for the night." Without another word, Aragorn walked off in the direction of the hills, not even glancing back to see that his companions were following him.

His companions were, in fact, not following him. Trestan was in a state of panicked confusion. Why had the gatekeeper not let them in? Why were they going to be spending another night out in the cold when there was a warm inn just a few meters away? Aragorn was the chieftain of the rangers! Who would deny him entry? And that too an insolent old gatekeeper of a village that was barely the size of his ranger village home?

Watching his leader's retreating back, Trestan turned to face Dagoin, his eyes asking for some sort of an explanation, pleading to be told that it was a joke and that they could go in. They could climb over the wall if nothing else; it was barely as high as he was.

Dagoin too was looking back at Aragorn, a curious mixture of sorrow, anger and thoughtfulness on his face as he considered the retreating figure of his chieftain.  
"It still hurts him so much…after all the times he has seen it, felt it, it still hurts." Dagoin's thoughts were interrupted by Trestan, who was still waiting for an explanation. Smiling softly at the youth's confusion and indignation, he laid a hand on his head and rubbed his hair gently, "It hurts you too, doesn't it? Aye, it always hits the youths the hardest, till the repeated battering of experience teaches them to endure it. Come now."

And so saying, Dagoin followed in his leader's footsteps, leaving behind a bewildered, unhappy and thoroughly cold Trestan.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! I'll try to update as soon as possible, but the way things are going, it will probably be a while…meanwhile, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this part, so please review! Thank you very much.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

A/N: Hey! I'm really sorry this took so long. Hope that there are still people out there reading. I assure you that while my updates are not frequent, I will (eventually) finish this story.

So, thanks to all my reviewers! You have no idea how happy your reviews make me :). A special thanks to Meriagrin Baggwise for her prodding to finish this story. I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 2:

By the time the other two rangers reached the cave, Aragorn had already lit the fire and was making preparations for dinner. Silently, Dagoin and Trestan went about their own preparations. Dinner was prepared and eaten without a word being spoken, each lost in his own thoughts.

Trestan was feeling downright miserable. He pushed his food around aimlessly, his mind too worked-up to think about eating. He didn't understand what was going on at all. Why were they not in the village enjoying a hot cup of tea next to a blazing fire rather than eating cold rations next to a meager flame? What had the guard meant with all that nonsense about rangers? He wanted to know but with the mood as it was he didn't quite dare to ask his companions or break the tense silence that had settled down on them. Fidgeting nervously, he glanced up at the other two rangers, hoping they at least would say something, anything, to break this awful silence. He didn't like it at all. Aragorn was usually always so lively and cheerful, not angry and quiet as he seemed to be now. They had always passed their nights laughing and talking lightly but today no conversation was forthcoming, and it worried him even further. Aragorn finished his small portion of food quickly then strode outside, muttering something about standing guard. Trestan glanced anxiously at Dagoin, who seemed calmest of the three, still sitting and slowly eating his food. After a while, he could no longer stand the silence.

"Dagoin? What…why…I mean…is…is Aragorn all right?" he burst out. Well, that wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask anything more directly. Luckily, for him Dagoin seemed to understand his confusion.

"He will be fine, lad" he answered softly, his eyes still on his plate. "He has been through much worse than this. I am more concerned about you."

Trestan lowered his eyes too. He hadn't realized that his worry had been that transparent. But now that it was out in the open, he might as well spill it all out.

"I just don't understand! Why won't the guard let us in? Why…Why did he seem to think we would harm him?"

Dagoin put away his plate and moved to sit next to Trestan. "Look lad," he said. "I know this is hard for you to accept, because you have never had any experience dealing with anyone beyond your ranger village. But this is a reality that you, as a ranger, are going to have to face everyday from now on. The simple truth is this – we are neither well-liked nor well-reputed in these lands. The common folk despise us; they think we are nothing better than thieves and scoundrels. The response you got from the guard is one you are going to get from almost everyone you meet. Rangers are treated at best with faint suspicion, at worst with open hostility. Bartenders and shopkeepers and farmers and anyone else we talk to speak to us roughly or not at all. Patrons at inns we stay in give us distrustful looks. Other travelers on the road give us a wide berth; mothers hold their children tighter as we pass. There are many villages like this, Trestan, where rangers are not admitted, no matter how dire their need."

Trestan's shock was visible on his face. "I had always thought that rangers were well-liked, even respected by everyone else," he said. He had indeed imagined that rangers were like heroes to the common folk, thinking that they would be honored and respected. It seemed logical after all, considering how much the rangers did for them.

"You have been sheltered in your village since young and it is no wonder this seems new to you. Do not worry about it now. You will get used to it with time. We have a long hard day tomorrow. Try and get some sleep." Dagoin replied.

Trestan moved to his bedroll, still in a state of puzzlement. His first trip as a ranger was turning out to be completely different from what he had imagined. He still had a hard time accepting that the common folk could have such a view of rangers. How could one get used to this sort of hatred and discrimination from everyone?

Confused but too tired to puzzle over it any longer, Trestan spread out his bedroll as close to the fire as he safely could, and was soon asleep.

Dagoin remained sitting in the cave for a little while, watching Trestan sleep. Standing up, he took off his own cloak and wrapped it gently around him, before walking quietly out of the cave.

Aragorn, sitting a short distance away from the mouth of the cave, was watching the entire proceedings. He could not hear what was being said between Dagoin and Trestan but could guess the topic of the conversation. He really supposed he should have talked to Trestan himself but he had been too upset himself to sense the other's confusion.

He knew he should not have been this affected. He had seen the reactions of other men to the rangers many times over and knew their status in their eyes. And what was one more night out in the cold anyway? He had been in many situations where the hatred towards the rangers had led to things far worse than a few frozen fingers.

But he knew it was not about the one night in the cold. He had tried hard to get used to it, but it still stung that the rangers were thought of as nothing better than common criminals. These were his men. His people. His responsibility. And as their leader, he could not even provide them the minimal comfort of a warm inn. He could watch them suffer and die in battle after battle, but could not provide for them a single kind word from the ones they were protecting. He could honour the dead at their burials, but in place of a hero's recognition could provide them only the label of thieves and scoundrels. The rangers never complained, of course, they knew the truth of their existence and were willing to do what they did despite it. But Aragorn could never stop hoping that perhaps one day they would actually get what they deserve.

His dark musings continued as he saw Trestan going to sleep. He smiled slightly at Dagoin as he came out. Dagoin was impassive and gruff and quite intimidating at times, but Aragorn knew him to be one of the most kind-hearted person he had ever met. It might not seem like it, but he truly cared about those around him and seemed to be especially fond of Trestan. He had sacrificed his cloak every night to give Trestan that little extra warmth.

"So, the stern, hardened old warrior really does have a soft spot, eh? You have already given him your blanket to add on to his, and now your cloak too?" he asked, as Dagoin approached him.

Dagoin shrugged almost sheepishly as he sat down next to Aragorn. "He seemed so miserable in the cold. He's young he needs it a lot more than I do. This trip in this winter is hard on him"

Aragorn's face darkened again. "I know how much he wanted to have a proper shelter for this night. He was so excited at the very thought of it. But I could not give it to him."

"Do not be so harsh on yourself, Aragorn. It is not your fault and you know it. We all wish it did not have to be this way but it is. He will get through this Aragorn, he will learn to get used to it, as we all did. But it is not him I am worried about." Dagoin trailed off meaningfully.

Aragorn smiled again. He had known Dagoin was coming out of the cave for this very purpose and was glad for it. Dagoin had become his self-appointed guardian on their travels together and would always come to talk to him if he sensed something was bothering him. Aragorn had always been glad for his wise words.

"I am alright Dagoin, truly. I admit I got a bit upset and angry but I am fine now."

Dagoin scrutinized him intensely for a while than grunted in agreement, seeming to accept his words as truth.

They sat in companiable silence for a while till a sudden shriek coming from the village rent the air. They were immediately on their feet, hands automatically reaching for their weapons, as they spun to look in the direction of the village. What they saw froze them to the spot.

The village was on fire.

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A/N: Hope you liked that! Please review, and thank you once again. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, I know it has been months since I have updated this. But, as promised, I have finished this story and I present to you the last chapter of Simple Men. I hope there are still people following this, and I hope you enjoy this last part.

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Last Chapter_: The village was on fire.  
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Chapter 3

As one, the rangers turned around and sped back to the cave. Aragorn shook Trestan awake, while Diagon gathered up the few supplies that might help them – medical supplies and the like. They then raced towards the village, easily jumping over the small fence that surrounded it.

Inside, everything was chaos. It seemed that a fire started in one of the fireplaces to ward off the cold had gotten out of control. Two or three of the houses were ablaze, and the nearby houses were in danger of catching fire too. The villagers were milling about in panic, some running towards the well, while others hurriedly rushing the nearby residents from their homes. As the rangers drew near, they heard a shriek from one of the women who had just run out of one of the burning houses.

"My daughter! My daughter is still in there!"

No sooner had she said this than a part of the house collapsed, causing the fire to burn even more ferociously. The woman screamed again and tried to run back in but could see no way past the flames. Collapsing at the doorway, she pleaded for help, but the villagers were hesitant. The house was about to collapse at any moment, there was no chance they would be able to make it through all the flames and back again in time.

Hearing the woman's cries, Aragorn swiftly drew near and peered intently into the house, ignoring the heat of the flames that were but a hand's breadth away from him. He thought he could discern somewhere above the roar of the flames and the shouts of the villagers the thin sound of a child crying from inside the house. Turning back to Trestan and Diagon, he said, "Go and help the villagers bring water. I will try to find the child"

"No, Aragorn," Diagon protested. "It's too dangerous! The house could come down at any time. Let me go inst…"

"This is not the time to argue, Diagon," Aragorn interrupted sharply, already unbuckling his sword and laying it aside. "Do as I say. I will go in."

Ignoring Diagon's further protests, Aragorn leapt past the flames into the house. There were flames everywhere, and the roar of the fire was even louder than before. Black smoke obscured the air in all directions and stung his eyes, and Aragorn found it hard to discern anything beyond a few feet. The heat was almost unbearable. Holding his cloak over his mouth to avoid breathing in the smoke, Aragorn tried to follow the faint soft cry that he had heard before.

Luckily, in a few moments, he managed to spot the child. She could not be more than five years old. She was crouched beneath a table, clearly frightened beyond her wits. She stared fearfully at the flames that had all but surrounded her. Aragorn quickly made his way to her side. Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around her. Hopefully it would offer her some protection from the fire.

"It's ok, little one. I have you now, you are safe. Everything will be alright." He whispered to her soothingly, before picking her up, and trying to make his way back out of the burning building. He could tell he had little time left to leave the house, some parts of the roof were collapsing even as they moved out. The heat had become even more stifling and he was beginning to cough from inhaling too much of the smoke.

Just as he was reaching the door, he heard an ominous creaking noise. Looking above, he saw a large wooden beam about to crash down in front of them. If it fell before they could get through, the door would be blocked, they would be trapped inside with no way of getting out. In desperation, he could see only one way out. Holding the girl tightly to his chest, he threw himself forward towards the door, hoping to clear the beam.

For a moment, he thought he had. Then a burning pain exploded in his right leg. The burning beam had fallen right on top of it! He uttered a half-choked scream as he struggled to free his leg from the fire. Luckily, he was close enough to the door, and he could hear people scrambling in to help him. He held the crying child up to them and sighed with relief as she was taken out of the house. He then felt strong arms lifting him out too, and he gave in without protest, the agony in his leg leaving him without the strength or will to argue. Just as they left the house, the building collapsed behind them.

Diagon, whom Aragorn discovered was the one who had lifted him free, led Aragorn a short distance away from the rest of the villagers. Aragorn lay panting, his eyes screwed shut tightly and his hands clutching his badly burnt leg. Diagon furiously searched through their bag of medical supplies, removing a couple of salves and bandages and handing some to Trestan.

"Here, bring this to the villagers. Some of them have sustained minor burns. The salves should help them." He instructed gruffly, before turning his attention back to his chieftain. "How many times Aragorn? How many times must I tell you not to do such things? Valar forbid, you ever listen to sense and think before taking such foolhardy risks," Diagon raged on while preparing water and bandages.

Aragorn smiled despite his pain. He was often on the receiving end of such lectures from Diagon, who let out his love for his friend and worry for his injuries as anger against his recklessness. Diagon would grumble about his stupidity the whole time while patching up whatever new injury his chieftain had managed to sustain, and by now Aragorn could remember his whole lecture by heart and recite it word for word.

"Peace, my friend." Aragorn interrupted quietly, after Diagon had gone on for a while. "You know you would have done exactly the same thing if you had been in my position." Aragorn smiled again as Diagon could find no way to protest against that and fell silent. "How is the girl?"

"She is fine, scared and a little bruised, but otherwise alright. You, on the other hand…" Diagon trailed off with a meaningful glance at his leg. He knew Aragorn must be in a lot of pain right now, his leg was quite badly burnt, but he also knew that the treatment for burns was equally, if not more, painful than the injury itself, and he was loath to cause his chieftain any more pain. It had to be done though.

"Aragorn," He said, turning back to face him. "I'm going to treat the burns. I'm sorry but …this will hurt, my friend. A lot."

Aragorn gave a small pained smile and a slight nod, to reassure him that it was fine.

"Trestan," Diagon called out to the lad, who had returned by now and was watching them warily. He did not really want the young ranger to see this, but he needed someone to help him. "I need you to hold his leg still. Don't let him move it." Trestan looked apprehensive, but moved to comply quietly, his hands gripping Aragorn's leg firmly.

Picking up the bowl of water and a clean piece of cloth he once again glanced at Aragorn, who only nodded at him to begin before closing his eyes and visibly bracing himself. Focusing his attention back on the burnt leg, Diagon gently began to wash the burns.

The reaction was immediate. The moment the water touched his wounds, Aragorn let out a stifled scream, trying to move his leg away from the source of the pain. Startled, Trestan was momentarily thrown off. "Hold him tightly, Trestan!" Diagon commanded, trying unsuccessfully to block out the sounds of distress his friend couldn't hide. Looking sick, Trestan once again tried to hold down his leader's flailing arms and leg. Aragorn lay with his eyes screwed tightly shut, his jaw clenched. The agony was intense and it took all his considerable willpower and strength to not make a sound and still his movements as much as possible. He could not help but make the occasional groan and flinch away whenever Diagon's cloth touched a particularly painful burn. The treatment took mere minutes, but to all three of them it seemed much longer.

After the ordeal was over and Diagon had bandaged his leg, Aragorn fell into a light sleep and Trestan and Diagon sat near by, tired out by the night's events. Trestan, in particular was exhausted. He was no stranger to wounds and injuries - one could not live in a ranger village without being exposed to them - but it had distressed him to see his usually stoic chieftain in so much pain. In the distance, Trestan could see the villagers still bustling around; no one paid any attention to them.

"It's not fair!" he burst out after sitting a few moments in silence.

"What isn't, young one?" Diagon asked. He could guess what was on the youngster's mind, but wanted to hear it from him.

"I know you said that the people here don't like rangers very much." Trestan began hesitantly, trying to make sense of his muddled thoughts. "But how can they stand there ignoring us when Aragorn has just risked his life for them? He lies here in great pain because of them and they show no gratitude, not even concern for his injury."

"Many of the deeds of rangers go unheeded and unappreciated. Many rangers have bled and died for these common folk while they remain oblivious of their presence and protection. It is not their fault, Trestan. They do not know who we are, they understand nothing of our history or our lineage, and they have no knowledge of our role. Can you blame them for not realizing that we are trying to help them? They see only what one can expect them too see in us. Wandering strangers, scraggly and dirty, who seem to come and go without purpose or meaning. What would you think of us? Would you want such persons near your house and family? What would any reasonable person conclude? They are not evil, they wish only to protect their villages and families."

"And yet they do not see that we are here for that very purpose. We are the ones standing between them and the true danger out there."

"Of course they do not see it. They are simple men, Trestan, good of heart, but ignorant of the dangers around them. It is this very innocence that we seek to protect, and what are a few harsh words, a couple of nights in the cold or simply plain disregard if that remains safe?"

Trestan seemed still unconvinvced.

"Our duty is to keep the people protected and happy, and if that means keeping them unaware of the true danger they are in and ignorant of our role in fighting it, than so be it. I would accept their dislike and ingratitude for that end."

Trestan remained quiet for a while. "I…I don't see how you – how all the rangers – stand living this way. Fighting for someone you don't care about and who doesn't care about you…it sounds horrible."

"But we do care for them, despite everything they do. You will come to appreciate their strengths too." Diagon chuckled at the disbelieving look on the younger lad's face. "When you come to know more of them, you will find unbelievable joy in the sound of their laughter, the sight of their children playing, the warm stories around the hearth, even the good-humoured bickering in the taverns at night when the ale has flowed for too long. You will feel joy knowing that you have played a part in preserving that happiness, helped them remain the simple, good-hearted men that they are, even if you can never be accepted as one of them. You will want to fight for them Trestan."

"I don't see what's so good-hearted about them." Trestan grumbled. He felt a lot better now about the villagers, but could not help putting forth a last argument. "Maybe we can't fault them when they remain unaware of our role, but in this case, they can clearly see how much Aragorn helped them. And still they do nothing!"

"Wait and watch lad. You will be surprised."

A soft moan from Aragorn ended the conversation, and both Diagon and Trestan moved towards him. Aragorn opened his eyes and stared up at them blearily, smiling slightly when he made out who they were. Diagon carefully helped him to sit up and drink water.

"How's the leg feeling, Aragorn? And don't tell me 'it's fine', I can see right through that one." He asked.

Aragorn smiled at the old jest. "It's better, Diagon. It should heal quickly, though we may need to delay our journey a few days. For now we should get back to our camp. Yes, Diagon," he reassured him, when the latter shot a doubtful look at his leg, "I am well enough to move."

Although Diagon clearly did not trust his word, he and Trestan made no further complaints and started gathering up their supplies. Putting Aragon's arm around his shoulder, he helped to heave him to a standing position. Aragorn clenched his jaw as the shift in weight caused agony to shoot down his injured leg. He was not looking forward to the journey ahead, and it was clear that Diagon was going to have to bear most of his weight. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn was just about to test how much weight his injured leg could sustain when a voice from behind interrupted them.

"Excuse me, Master Rangers?" The hesitant voice asked.

The three rangers turned around to find the same gate-keeper behind them, who had just hours earlier berated them so severely. With him was the young girl Aragorn had saved from the flames. She seemed pale but otherwise uninjured and was gazing up with undisguised awe at Aragorn.

"This is my daughter." The gate-keeper continued, gesturing to the girl. " I…I thank you for saving her life. If you had come but a minute later, I dare not think what might have happened." This speech was directed towards the ground as the gate-keeper, much too embarrassed to look the rangers in the eye, shuffled his feet nervously.

"It is nothing. I am glad I was able to be there in time. I wish you and your family well." Aragorn replied sincerely but shortly. He was getting tired and wanted to return to the camp instead of standing around here talking. Nodding in farewell, he once again turned around and started forward, when a small hand reached out to stop him. It was the girl he had saved.

"Don't go away. You're nice, you saved me from the fire. Stay here with us." The girl implored.

Aragorn smiled at her and placed a hand gently on her head. "We must go, little one. But I am glad you are safe."

"My daughter is right, Master Ranger." The gate-keeper spoke up nervously. "You are grievously hurt. You should not spend the night outside in this cold. You are welcome to stay in our village."

Aragorn hesitated.

The gate-keeper rushed on. "I ….I apologize for my words earlier, Master Ranger. I should not have spoken as I did. I would be honoured if you would spend the night with us. It is the least we can do for you."

Smiling, Aragorn graciously accepted both his apology and his offer. It seemed he would be able to provide his men with one night of comfort after all. As they made their slow way to the inn, Aragorn wincing with every step, Diagon whispered to Trestan, "See lad, they are simple men, but good men."

Trestan smiled broadly. Maybe being a ranger wouldn't be so hard after all.

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A/N: Well, that's the end. Thanks for reading so far, and I'd love to hear your opinions on this, so please review! 


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